


Spit Fire

by GalekhXigisi



Series: Virgil Is The Dark Sides King Collection [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders is a Dark Side, Dark Side King Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Former Dark Side Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Winged Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-07 09:58:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19207069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalekhXigisi/pseuds/GalekhXigisi
Summary: Virgil stands as calm, maybe even annoyance, in front of the brewing pint of anger in front of him, tired of the other's antics.





	Spit Fire

The reaction to stress was, often, a panic attack, when things got far too heated and things would double over. But now, Virgil stands in front of Wrath, who knowingly spares no mercy, _ever._ He’s just as full of lies as Greed or Deceit would be. Wrath stalks around him, the tiny bat wings flitting with each movement. Virgil hated being on the cusp of dark and light, his room sat on the morally grey center with Deceit and Sleep. It made interactions like this one too common.

 

Wrath pulls on a couple of Virgils’ feather, smirking as it pulls a huff from the younger side, jerking his own wings away with another huff, this time one that conveys annoyance. “What do you _want,”_ Virgil asks the side currently doing circles around him, examining the other.

 

“You’ve plumped up since you started joining those light sides,” Wrath claims. “You’re not a stick in need of a biscuit anymore. You don’t look like a crackhead.”

 

 _“Thanks,”_ Virgil stretches out with clear sarcasm.

 

Wrath slips a hand through Virgil’s wings once more, much to the side’s dismay. They fold in on instinct, his cheeks flushing of their color. The eyeshadow underneath his eyes seems to darken in the low light. Wrath lets out a laugh. “You always _were_ the most sensitive of the sides, even more so than that _Morality_ kid up there.” He lets out a gleeful huff as Virgil tucks his wings away. “Do they even _know_ about the wings? Or that you were originally a dark side? Or the animal train that _all_ of us dark sides carry?”

 

“So do the morally grey sides,” Virgil mumbles in reply.

 

“They _don’t,_ do they?” He howls with a cackle.

 

“Shut up,” Virgil mumbles. The eyeshadow only grows. It sucks the color from his face, almost turning him a ghostly white.

 

Wrath only smirks. “Be nice to the baby? Nope!” One of his wings coaxes around the uncomfortable side. “They still think you’re a villain, you know? They never accepted you. THey only did it because Thomas needs you. They just don’t want you ducking out like the pussy that you are.” He juts his finger into Virgil’s chest a time or two, pressing a deep ache there. “Thomas only keeps you and your bitter opinions around because he has to or he’ll end up accidentally killing himself.”

 

 _“Shut up,”_ Virgil mumbles once again, the demonic voice that comes with his stress slowly seeping in. The instant it fully hit, he knew Thomas’ anxiety would grip it’s nasty clutches around him, sending him into a spiraling anxiety attack. _“Leave me alone.”_

 

“Why are you even _here,_ Payton,” Wrath asks with a smirk.

 

Virgil’s mind halts at the deadname. It was his _before_ he became a neutral side. It was the name from when he had been just known as the scared side. It was _Depression’s_ name. The sides had merged during maybe middle or high school. Virgil couldn’t remember, his timing blurred between then thanks to Depression’s faulty memory.

 

 **_“Shut up,”_ ** Virgil commands, having the other on the ground within an instant, forearm pressed to the side’s throat, holding him down on the carpet without remorse. He was the king of the dark sides for a reason. He was the _strongest,_ the _biggest._ He had the most control over Thomas, no matter _what_ anyone said. His wings are humungous when compared to the commons of the living room, the sets of three all too big. The darkness beneath his cheeks was spread around his face now, covering the skin in lightning bolt darkness, not daring illuminate him. It sucks up the color from around him, making Virgil’s bi-colored eyes nothing more than a black iris and white one.

 

Wrath lets out a wheeze at the press. Virgil could kill him. He could banish him to the dark imagination, just like he had done years ago, had done many times before.

 

 **_“Do you want to go back,”_ ** Virgil asks, no remorse left for the side cowering in front of him.

 

Anxiety was far more than what people let on. It was deadly, quick, and nimble. If Anxiety got irritated, it could ruin lives. Fight, flight, it didn’t matter. When it came to pumping adrenaline, Virgil could get it done faster than any other. Calculations for the deadliest hits took milliseconds, making him the hardest to catch or take account for. In the few physical fights he had had with Roman, they had ended in Roman pinned down on the ground, struck by disbelief at Virgil’s accuracy and agility, alike.

 

Wrath shakes his head, fear setting in. Virgil can feel the nerves radiating off of the other. He lets go of the side whimpering for forgiveness, pulling away altogether.

 

“I’m going to help Thomas out of his panic attack. Go to your room and stay silent. If I hear a singular peep out of your even _once,_ you won’t see the light of day for _months.”_

 

His wings fold in as he disappears, leaving Wrath to stew. Greed slips out from where he had been hiding behind the counter, helping up Wrath with a cocky smirk.

  
  
  


Virgil slips into Thomas’ bedroom, finding the three light sides already there, attempting to calm down their host. Virgil ignores the gasps he gets, wings held out and eyes shockingly different. He stalks forward, the milky crown of darkness floating above his head as he kneels in front of his host, calm as can be.

 

“May I touch,” Virgil asks, voice almost silent. Thomas is quick to nod, not minding as Virgil scoops him into a hug. “Breathe, Thomas, it’s alright. Nothing’s here to harm you. Can you go in for four?” Thomas shakes his head, _no._ Virgil nods patiently. “I’m going to tap it out on your arm, alright?” A nod follows.

 

Virgil gently pats his index finger to Thomas’ wrist, counting out the breathing exercises. He ignores Deceit, who had popped up at some point and was now staring at the king of the dark sides comforting their host. He slowly counts out the numbers with the patience of a saint. He’s much more tolerant with Thomas than with Wrath, clearly, calming the other down quickly. His wings protectively wrap around Thomas, not minding as the other falls asleep. He slowly slips away, pulling the blanket over Thomas with a calm sigh.

 

“If we’re going to talk about this,” Virgil supplies with his back stilled turned towards the sides, “then we have to do so in the mindscape, where we can’t wake Thomas.”

 

He sinks down without another word.

  
  
  


Virgil sits on the couch, flopping down. He notes that the crown is gone, his hand not hitting anything as he flits his hands through his locks. He guesses his face is back to normal, too. Patton tentatively looks at Virgil, almost _scared_ of him. It makes his stomach lurch, reminded of what Wrath said instantaneously.

 

“Who _didn’t_ upset you,” Deceit questions, sitting on the other side of the couch. “I haven’t seen you like that since _never.”_

 

Virgil glances over at Deceit, turning towards him from his spot on the couch arm. Maybe the eyeshadow still _is_ marking up his cheeks, adjusting accordingly to his mood as he glances at the other. “Wrath got in my head,” he mumbles, “and I chose fight over flight. He… He brought P up and I…”

 

Deceit’s face crumbles, a glare forming on him as he looks at the mournful side currently looking at the couch cushions instead of literally _anyone._ “I sincerely hope you _didn’t_ lay him out,” Deceit concludes coldly.

 

“He was on the ground when I left. I told him to go to his room or I’d banish him again.”

 

Deceit flinches. Sides that got banished never came back the same. Deceit hadn’t gotten banished before, no, but he had seen the kingdom a time or two before and it _was_ rather harsh.

 

Roman is the one to ask, “What the _fuck_ are you two talking about?”

 

Virgil flinches at the loud noise of the other, glancing up at Roman, who seemingly wears an apologetic frown. He glances to Deceit, softly asking, “Should I tell them?...”

 

_“Of course not.”_

 

“Got it. So, basically, I’m the dark side king.” He shrugs half-heartedly, attempting to be nonchalant. His stomach boils with anxiety. “Wrath brought up a dead side and I went all Cujo on him. Banishing a side is just sending them to my part of the imagination, or the land of the dead, as Prince Roman over there calls it. It’s big and dark and absolutely _horrible._ I didn’t--”

 

“Sides can _die,”_ Patton wails, tears in his eyes already.

 

Virgil looks up, frowning. “Sort of? They don’t exactly _die._ They just merge with others. I merged with one side and--”

 

“What side,” Logan asks with a raised brow.

 

“Depression. He was also known as Payton. He was super sweet but… Sometime during school, we just merged together and that was it. I’m not exactly sure when or why, but I know we did. I have the most control over Thomas and I’m the strongest, so I became the king. What main emotions Patton doesn’t handle, I do.”

 

“Sides can _die_ , _”_ Patton repeats with tears in his eyes, still glistening unhappily. “Can… Can _we_ die?”

 

Virgil scowls. “Of course not! You’re main, light sides. There are only so many main sides. You can’t fade out.” Despite saying it, he can still feel fear radiate off of the other. “Besides, they don’t _die._ They just move on and become parts of another side.” He shrugs.

 

“I still don’t understand the wings,” Roman mumbles.

 

“Dark and neutral sides all have them. Wrath has bat wings, I have bird wings, Deceit has his snake side, and so on. It’s just a perk of being on the darker side.” He flits the right half of his wings, the ones that are black. The left was knowingly white. “These were Depressions’ wings. I’m not sure how I got six in all, but…” He trails off, looking away.

 

There was a lot to explain, Virgil knew, but not tonight.

**Author's Note:**

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